Aftermath
by Saldia
Summary: Alternate universe: Change of events post s1 curse breaking. A different take on the Home Office. Mainly aimed at Dearies, Rumbellers but all the characters (s1 and some s2) will be there, including a few new ones.
1. Chapter 1

The usual disclaimers apply: OUAT and its characters are not mine, I'm just using them for fun, not profit. The story is entirely AU with many of the events since the curse broke being changed. Let's just say after I got over being upset that certain things in the series didn't turn out the way I hoped and I decided to do an AU. This is aimed at primarily at Dearies, Rumbelle fans and maybe Swanfire (I haven't decided yet if they will get back together, but Bae does not die.) May contain some LGBT pairing later on so if that offends do not read. Malcom Wallace is my own creation as well as a few others mentioned in the story. Please review

(For those who started the read my other OUAT fic, I promise I would get back to it now that my heart break is resolving).

Aftermath

Part 1: Waking Up

Chapter 1

A land without magic?

The Enchanted Forest, some 300 years ago.

The man in black waited in the clearing. The night was dark with no moon and thick clouds veiling the starlight, making the path to the meeting place difficult to see. It didn't bother him though, darkness and shadows were ever his constant companions. And it would not deter the one he waited for either. For a being who thought of herself as belonging to the light, she was becoming quite adept at dealing in the shadow. He suppose she thought herself a martyr to her cause. He didn't care as long as he got what he wanted in the end.

He didn't have to wait long before a small, blue ball of light came floating from the woods. It stopped about two feet in front of him before transforming into a small, winged female wearing an elaborate (and somewhat ridiculous-he thought-blue dress).

"I have come, portal jumper," she said, trying her best to sound imperious.

"You have quite the talent for stating the obvious Reul Ghorm." He watched her bristle, enjoying her irritation.

"What is it you want?" she asked.

"Funny, I was going to ask you that…I understand you have a problem. A dark problem?"

"What do you know of this?" she asked trying desperately to hide her irritation and something else? Fear? Yes… fear that he knew her deep, dark, dirty secret. Fear that everyone else would find out. Well she didn't need to know that he knew…not yet anyway.

"I know that this Dark One isn't like the others. For one thing he's managed to hang on to his soul somehow and the dagger, unlike those before him who became some Lord's thrall. And the other thing he's clever, this one."

Reul Ghorm said nothing. She tightened her lips in disapproval but waited for him to continue.

"You need a way to be rid of him yes? But you can't kill him unless you get the dagger and your magic against his…well. So why not send him away? Someplace where he will be powerless to hurt others, unable to interfere in your wish granting and the realm goes back to what it was?"

"How?" she asked.

"With this." He held out her hand for her to see. Lying on the center was a perfect, crystalline bean.

"But how will we get him to use it?" She asked. Fool fairy never bothered to ask why he was helping her or where he would send the Dark One. She never could look beyond her own short sighted problems.

"Oh, I'm sure you would find a way," he said, bowing slightly as he surrendered the bean. "As always, it was a pleasure doing business with you."

Storybrooke, 28 years post curse.

Rumplestillskin headed towards the well. Even with his limp slowing his pace, Belle still lingered behind, her haze of confusion serving as her own handicap.

"Wait," she called after him.

"No, no…it isn't very far," he replied without slowing.

"Rumplestillskin, wait!"

The sound of his name coming from her lips stopped him in his tracks almost as if she held his dagger and commanded him to stop.

"I…I remember."

He turned slowly to face her, dreading what he would see in those lovely blue eyes. Anger, resentment or disgust maybe?

"I love you," she said. For a moment he doubted the words he heard. But one look at her face, her eyes and he knew he had heard true.

"Yes," he said smiling. It was good to smile, a real smile-not the mocking, cynical mask he had grown accustomed to- but one of pure joy. "And I love you". How long had he waited to say that, waited to hold her as he did now? Too long and then he had lost her…lost her and never believed that he would ever have this moment. But she was here, and she loved him. And he would never, ever let anyone take her from him. Which made what he had to do all the more important.

"But hey, there'll be time for that. Right now there is something I must do."

With that he turned and headed towards the well. Belle watched as he pulled a vial of glowing purple from his pocket and dropped it over the stone edge.

"What is this?" she asked.

"The waters below have the power to restore that which has been lost. I'm restoring something I need. Magic is coming."

Manhattan, present day.

Neal Cassidy looked at the woman who was asleep in his bed, her long, chocolate brown limbs tangled in his sheets, chest rising and falling rhythmically. She looked peaceful now, very different from the night before, when she had shown up at his doorstep in tears. Silently he got up, grabbing his clothes off the floor and tiptoed into his living room. Once he had pulled on his jeans and wrinkled t-shirt, he crossed to the kitchen sink and splashed his face with cold water. There was left over coffee in the coffee maker which he poured into a cup and shoved in the microwave to heat while he swallowed some aspirin. Taste didn't matter. He just needed the caffeine, needed to get his head clear so he could figure out what the hell he was doing letting Tamara back in his life.

 _He had been seventeen when they had first met, and part of a gang of thieves that ironically had named themselves the 'Lost Boys'. It had been their idea to break into the old mansion. The only people who lived there was a crazy old man and his adopted daughter. Easy pickings. Or so they thought. No one had realized that the crazy old man owned a gun and was more that adept at using it. And unfortunately Neal had been the one to get caught at the end of the barrel. The last thing he remembered seeing before passing out from the blood loss was the backs of his so called 'brothers' as they left him to die._

 _When he came to, he found himself lying in a bed in a lavish room. Someone had removed his blood soaked clothing and dressed his wound. He had tried to sit up but the burning pain in his side compelled him to do otherwise._

 _"You shouldn't do that," a voice said, "you might burst the stitches."_

 _He had tried to speak then but his throat was dry and he could only manage a strangled whisper. She understood him though and gave a bright smile before replying._

 _"I'm Tamara and this," she said nodding her head to the open doorway as a man dressed all in black stepped through "is my father."_

 _"My name is Malcom Wallace, son…rest now, you're safe."_

"You look… different here." Belle said after studying Rumple for some time. She was curled up on his sofa, her legs tucked under her. She wore an oversized sweat shirt and matching pants: his clothes courtesy the curse, though he had never worn them, and her hair, still damp from the shower hung loose over her shoulders. She looked smaller and more fragile than he remembered. And there was something about her now, a hesitation and uncertainty that was a marked contrast from the brave, bold woman he remembered.

 _Gods. What had Regina done to her? What had she put her through?_

 _Whatever she did, we will repay threefold_ , sang the demon, lusty for blood.

He pushed the thought from his mind. There would be time for vengeance later. Right now he wanted to focus on Belle. He didn't want to hear the demon's voice now.

"Are you…is your curse…"

"No." He said, cutting her off. His curse was definitely not broken. It had just been dormant. And then he had brought the magic of the Enchanted Forest into this world and woken it up. "It's just different here…"

"Because this is a land without magic?"

"Not exactly without…there had to be magic here for the curse to be sustained in the first place, but it's different, not nearly as potent or easy to access, so my curse was…suppressed."

"But then you brought magic here? Why?"

He winced at the edge of horror he heard in her voice. He got up and walked over to the window, turning his back towards her. He could not bear to look at her eyes, look at the disbelief and hurt that he would choose his curse again. It reminded him of the last time he had seen her, when she had tried to break his curse, when it had almost worked…but she hadn't known what it would cost him to let it break. She never knew the reason he took on the curse. Why he needed it then, and if the visions were right, why he needed it now more than ever. He had promised her that he would tell his story once upon a time, if she came back after he let her go to town. And after he had lost her, not a single day had gone by without him regretting not telling her. Now he had the chance. To tell her. To bear his soul and make amends. Make her understand his terrible rage. But he could not make the words come. They lay buried under his shame and guilt.

 _Coward. It is what I am. What I will always be. How could she understand? How could she love him after what he did? He let go his own son, he choose this blackness over him. How could she love him if she knew?_

 _No one could ever love you,_ the demon taunted. And he felt himself believing it. And falling into blackness…

"Rumple," Belle said gently. She was standing next to him now, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Her turned to face her then and felt her hands travel up to his face, stroking his cheek, brushing his hair. And somehow the darkness lifted. For one moment…one sweet moment he could no longer hear that black, vile voice that plagued his soul.

"I'm sorry…you don't have to explain anything. I love you." Her lips found his and she kissed him, gently at first and then deeper. He found himself returning the kiss, pulling her closer to him, tangling his fingers in her hair. And he felt the darkness retreating, scattering against her light. It was he that broke the embrace first. He had too. Before…

"Belle…I can't," he said, pushing her back gently.

She only nodded. Taking her hand, he led her towards the couch. Sitting beside her he took a deep breath and started talking.

"I promised you a story a long time ago. A story about before…when I was just an ordinary man. And about my son. It's time you had your story."

The old man sat reading by the fire place. He sipped a glass of wine slowly, savoring the taste. An old vintage, full bodied and bold. In all the worlds and all the wines he tasted, this one was his favorite. Dark red and said to contain Lycan blood. Better than the taste was what it did for him, body and soul.

"Master Wallace," Allister, his serving man interrupted.

"Yes, what is it?"

"This came for you, from an unknown sender."

The other man handed him a sealed white envelope with no return address. Inside was a postcard with a picture of a clock tower on it. Storybrooke, Maine was printed at the top. Underneath, scrawled in black was one word: Broken.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for the reviews so far This is a short chapter, just a quick look at how some others are dealing with the curse being broken. I always thought Jefferson and his issues about dealing with two separate lives intriguing and had wanted a little more about that with the other characters. Also I brought across some characters in this version of the curse that weren't in sb before. Apologies Dearies, no Rumple this chapter. But he'll be back in chapter 3!

Chapter 2: As the dust settles

Storybrooke, present day.

"So what do we do now?"

It was Red who had asked the question.

They were sitting around a table: Red, Granny, Archie, Snow and himself. Take away the electric lights and diner food and it was just like the old days in the Enchanted Forest when the war council met, David found himself musing. Except now he felt an uncertainty that he had never felt back then. Now, he had David Nolan lurking in his soul, a man who would much rather run from his problems than face them. He tried to force that part of him aside. He needed to be Prince David now.

"Leroy's keeping an eye on Regina at the station. She doesn't seem to have her magic back." Snow said.

She didn't have to voice the 'for now' for the others to hear it.

"Maybe we can get some squid ink from Rumplestillskin, just in case" Red suggested.

"That's an option," David said. If the man ever showed up. No one had seen him since the curse broke. The pawn shop was locked up tighter than Fort Knox and his cursed persona didn't have any friends so no one really knew his home address.

"She still needs to stand trial," Archie said.

"She already did," Granny chimed in. "We found her guilty in the Enchanted Forest remember? And then she got away. I say we make sure she doesn't this time. I say it's time to carry out the sentence." The older woman thumped on her cross bow for emphasis.

"We can't just execute her!" Snow replied horrified.

Granny narrowed her eyes and scowled. Before she could reply, David spoke up.

"Snow's right. She's still Henry's mom. And we made a promise. Besides, she cast the curse that brought us here so she may be able to take us back."

"Fat chance," Granny muttered.

"Well for now it's the only chance we have," Snow said, sounding exasperated. "I think we should adjourn for now until we have some new ideas."

With that the party broke up. Snow stood and walked out of the diner, leaving David behind. He had to run to catch up.

"Hey," he called to her. "Wait up."

"Sorry," she said, stopping and turning to face him. "I just needed some air."

"Hey," he said again, pulling her towards him. "It'll be okay. They're just…angry."

"I know…so am I. But it's not just them…it's Emma."

"What about Emma?"

"She wasn't home when I got up…"

"I know, she wanted to go out early and help the dwarves get everyone together…we need to know who's here."

"She's avoiding us, David. Since the curse broke and she realized who we are."

"Snow, it's going to take time…"

"Time? I waited twenty eight years to see my daughter again!"

"I know," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "But we can't rush this. She'll come to us, when she's ready."

Emma Swan walked towards the library. She didn't really have a reason to go there but she needed some time to herself and it was the only place that wasn't swarming with confused fairy tale characters. Ironically. Maybe she could retrieve her father's sword.

Her father. David. David who wasn't much older than her. And Mary Margaret. Her friend and roommate. Both people who she had come to know and trust. Both people who really didn't exist but were concoctions of a curse. Who they really were, Emma wasn't ready to deal with yet.

When she had been a little girl she'd imagined herself a princess. She'd read a book of fairytales and pretended that she wasn't an orphan but was really the daughter of a fairy queen, who had been spirited away by an evil fairy. She scoffed at the memory. If only she knew how close she had been to the truth. She should feel happy…finding her parents was what she had always wanted. But instead she just felt angry.

Pushing the library door open she entered and walked towards the elevator. She got in and descended down to the hidden level. Cautiously, she walked over to where the sword lay. Even without a dragon the cave beneath creeped her out.

"That's funny," she said aloud. She remembered the sword lying in a large pile of dragon ash when she left. But the ash was gone. The stone floor on which the sword lay was completely clean and there was no wind down here to account for it being blown away. Maybe magic dragon dust disappears on its own. Maybe, but the feeling in the pit of her stomach was telling her otherwise. Taking the sword she headed back into the lift. She had to go find David and Mary Margaret.

Dr. Hopper sat in his office and looked over his appointment book. His next patient wasn't till the next hour so he had some time to himself. A rare thing since the curse broke and people were coming to him to help them reconcile dual identities. It was easier for him than most, he supposed, because his own persona in this land was similar to his old self back home. Except he was taller here. And not an insect. But aside from that…

A knock at the door interrupted his musing.

"Come in," he called.

"Hi, Dr. Hopper. Or should I call you Dr. Cricket?" Henry Mills said brightly, as he walked in.

"Henry, hello. I didn't realize we had a session or that you still needed sessions with me considering you were right all along."

"We don't. I don't," the boy said smiling, "I just came by to say it's okay that you didn't believe me before. And to see how you were doing."

"Me?" Archie asked.

"Yeah, well I figure everyone will be coming to you since the curse broke, and that maybe you might need someone to talk to, you know, for you."

"Ah," Archie said, smiling. "I am actually quite well, but thank you Henry."

"You're welcome. Anyway I better be heading back to the diner or my mom will freak if she's back and I'm not there. See ya."

"Henry," Dr. Hopper said before the boy could exit. "How are you doing with all of this? With your mom…and other mom?"

"I…I'm okay." Henry said but his smile faltered.

"I'm here, if you need me. You know, for you."

"Thanks," the boy said and flashed a small smile before leaving.

The woman sat drinking alone. The phone rang but she ignored it. It wasn't Moira…Moira wanted to be alone. Unfortunately for whom ever was calling, she wanted to be left alone as well.

The answering machine activated.

'This is Michelle and this is Moira. We're not home right now. So leave a message after the tone.' The recorded voices said.

"Michelle. Mulan." She muttered the names. It all felt so confusing. She looked at the framed photographs on the mantle place. Two smiling woman stared back at her from various photographs, one raven haired and the other with fiery red curls. One showed them hiking in the woods, another dressed up for a New Year's eve party and another at the dojo and then the range. Smiling, holding hands, goofing around, kissing. Friends, lovers. And now…now they were strangers. To themselves and each other. She didn't even know Moira's real name. Or where she was now. She had been too upset to say anything before she left. Well, anything other than how their life had been a lie.

God, remembering hurt. Her head hurt. And her back. Her back worst of all. The skin over her tattoo felt like it was burning. Maybe her lucky dragon was waking up. Moira always said how life like it looked, like it would just burst out in a great ball of flame and smoke. And suddenly a memory flashed though her mind, hot and searing. Fire. Flames.

"Oh, God," she gasped as the pain in back intensified. She suddenly felt as though the skin was being ripped. Screaming she collapsed into blackness.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Alliances old and new

The books were stacked neatly in piles on the floor. Four towers of literature on dark magic and curses formed a semi- circle, at the center of which sat Belle, scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad. She had been woken by a nightmare again. Luckily this time she had not cried out and woken Rumple. The man had his own demons to deal with and slept little enough without her adding to it. Unable and unwilling to go back to sleep, she had headed to Rumple's library and found solace in books.

And at least I can do some good, she had thought. She had started reading about dark curses in hopes that she could find something that would help him. She knew why he didn't want the curse broken, but if she couldn't free him from the darkness then at least she could find a way to make it easier for him to control. A gentle knock at the door disturbed her reading. She looked up to see Rumpelstiltskin standing in the doorway, clean shaven and impeccably dressed as usual, holding a silver tray.

"Rumple, what time is it? What's that?"

"6 a.m. dearie. I uh…made you breakfast." The last part was added almost shyly.

"I thought that was supposed to be my job?"

"Belle…you're not my maid anymore. Now, may I come into your castle?" he asked, gesturing at the ring of books around her.

"Of course," she laughed. "It's technically your castle. I'm just squatting."

He crossed over to where she sat and settled down beside her on the floor, setting the tray between them. He lifted the lid off the tray, revealing plates piled with eggs, toast, sausages and two cups of steaming tea. Along the edge of the tray lay a long stemmed red rose.

"My lady," he said, taking her hand and kissing her lightly over her knuckles "if you'll have it."

"Why, thank you kind sir," Belle replied and kissed him back on the cheek.

After they had eaten, they just sat on the floor talking. Rumple had wrapped one arm around her. She leaned in closer, resting her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes.

"You're tired," he remarked, kissing her temple. "Another nightmare woke you?"

She considered denying it for a moment. Since she had regained her memories he had tried to get her to talk about her imprisonment. He already knew that Regina had locked her up for twenty eight years, a fact that enraged him enough to cry murder. She didn't want him to know how much she had suffered. Didn't want him to know that for twenty eight years, every night she dreamed about their last moments together. In the dream she had broken his curse. But instead of a happy ever after, the dream always ended with Regina killing Rumple as the curse broke. And it was all her fault. Every morning she awoke with the memory of her former life, to unsympathetic people who called her delusional and insisted that she was crazy. There had been many days that she was convinced they were right.

But if she told him that, it would only inflame him more and drive him towards seeking revenge. An act she figured would just feed his curse and increase its' hold on him. She had exacted a promise from him that he would not kill Regina, that he would leave justice up to the town. She had felt guilty for using his feelings but she had no idea how to help him otherwise. She really did not want to tell him about the nightmares.

"It's fine. It's not as bad as before."

The frown on his face told her he didn't believe her.

"If it were from a sleeping curse I could make a ward against the nightmares. But this? This is something my magic won't solve." He sounded frustrated, as though it hurt him physically to admit that there was something that magic-the thing he had embraced, lived and swore by- could not fix.

"You need to talk to someone about them. If not me…there is someone I know. That you…we…can trust."

It was strange to hear him speak of trusting. He didn't trust easily and she guessed if he did he wouldn't admit it readily. There was something in his voice that troubled her though. A bitterness and hardness to it. He thinks I don't trust him, she realized. He thinks that's the reason I won't talk about it.

"Rumple…" she started to protest.

"No." he said firmly, cutting her off. "You made me promise I won't kill Regina. There are ways I can hurt her and still keep that promise. But I'll make you a deal. I won't act. But you must talk to this person. He helps people in this land. He can help you. Do we have a deal?"

She should say something to him. Try to explain that it had nothing to do with lack of trust between them. But there was a look in his eyes now, a look that she had seen before in the dark castle when she had told him that what they had was true love, and she knew he would not believe her.

"Yes…" she stammered.

"Good," he said rising. "I'll go make the call."

With that he turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

Emma walked into the small apartment that she shared with Mary Margaret. David and Mary Margaret were already there, waiting for her.

"Emma," Mary Margaret greeted her, "you wanted to see us?"

"Yeah," Emma replied, trying her best to ignore the other woman's hopeful expression. She knew what Mary Margaret thought the meeting was going to be about. But she wasn't ready for that, besides they had bigger problems if her suspicion was right. "I think we may have a problem."

"Great," David replied, when Emma had finished filling them in on what she had discovered, "now we have Maleficent free somewhere in Storybrooke. Now all we need is Regina to get her magic back and it'll be just like old times!"

"She may lay low to recover from her injuries. That should give us some time," Snow said.

"To do what?" Emma asked incredulously, "because the old slaying the dragon bit didn't work out so well the first time."

The phone rang, interrupting their conversation.

"I'll get it," Mary Margaret said.

"It gives us time to plan, Emma. At least we can put people on alert and prepare to evacuate if things get out of hand."

Any reply Emma was going to give was cut off by Mary Margaret coming back into the room.

"Guys that was Ruby. We may have another problem. She wants us to come down to the town square now."

* * *

A crowd had gathered in the town square. They had been there some time listening to the man speak. Some were openly against what he was saying. But there were others who were nodding and adding shouts of agreement.

"Your Prince has failed you," the man was saying. He spat the word prince, making the word out to be something derisive. "Your Queen has failed you. You gave them your trust and they were supposed to protect you. But they failed. They allowed us all to be ripped from our homes, our lives our very beings to this cursed land. All of us were made to suffer from a vendetta that had naught to do with us! And now they protect the one who condemned us! They deny us justice."

"That's a lie. They didn't let this happen. And you don't want justice, George, you want revenge."

It was Ruby who had spoken. She came to the front of the crowd and glared up at the man on the podium.

"That's King George, to you," the man replied coldly. "But of course I expect you to agree with their idea of justice, having never been brought to account for your own sins."

At that comment, Ruby felt the wolf in her rise.

"You son of a…" her words and her advance forward was stopped by a hand on her arm.

"Let it go, Ruby" David said quietly to her. He looked up at the man on the podium and smiled.

"Hello, dad, inciting a little anarchy are we?"

"You're no son of mine," King George growled.

"Well, now that we have that identity crisis sorted out, why don't we all pack up and go home?"

"Home?" George scoffed loudly. "Which home is that? The home that was taken from us? How do you propose we do that?"

"Well," replied David lightly, "for starters by not executing the one person who may know how to send us back. And while this land may not be our home, it's what we have for now, and there is a little thing called 'due process' that helps keep the peace. You should know that, George."

"Is that the game you want to play? Very well then. You shall have your 'due process'" George replied quietly with a cold smile. "But there is also a thing in this land called democracy. And I say you are not fit to rule. So I challenge you. Let the people decide who shall rule them. A pair of weaklings who cower before an imprisoned, self-styled evil Queen or one strong enough to do what is necessary!"

The last part was said loudly for all to hear. King George's supporters cheered loudly in support of his plan.

"An election. Fine, if that's what you want. May the best ruler win," David said.

"Oh, I plan to see that happen, my Prince."

* * *

The idiot dwarf had finally left, to answer nature's call Regina suspected. It didn't give her much time but it was better than nothing. She studied the lock and concentrated. She could feel it, the tendrils of her magic tugging at her being, trying to rise. She just had to focus. At first there was a tingling and then a small glow at the tips of her fingers. She pointed at the lock. A tinny spark shot out and dissolved instantly leaving the metal in tack. Not even a scratch. Useless.

"Not so easy, is it, dearie?" a voice said.

She looked up to see her former mentor standing before her with that all too familiar smirk plastered on his face.

"Come to gloat?" she asked.

"Gloating was never to my taste."

His words were calm and softly spoken, but she could feel the steel in it, the cold sharpness of his rage. A younger version of herself might have been afraid. But the creature she had become felt nothing but empty hate.

"So do it then. If you have the nerve."

"Oh, I haven't come to kill you, dearie. I made a promise. But I do need to ensure that you stay out of my way."

Quicker than she had expected him to move, he grabbed her wrist and slapped something on to the palm of her hand. She could feel her flesh burning and something moving into it. It took several tries before she wrenched her hand free. She studied her hand and the odd brand left there. It looked like a coat of arms, with a giant squid on it.

"What?" she asked, but then she knew. She could no longer feel the magic that was just beginning to wake up.

"You bastard. So that's it then? You take my magic. Do you really expect that the Charmings would do your dirty work for you? They don't have the stomach." She scoffed.

"Maybe. But you've made other enemies who I'm sure would be willing to step up where they fail. And though what I had in mind for you would have been much worse than anything they could dream up, I guess I will just have to be content. As the saying goes, it's an imperfect world. Now, if you would excuse me, I have some other business to take care of."

* * *

King George walked up to the front door of his house. He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. As he crossed the threshold he noticed something on the hallway floor. Blood. But who?

"Close the door, George." A woman's voice commanded.

He stopped in his tracks.

"Mal," he said at last.

"It's been a long time, my love…it's time we got re acquainted."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Mona Lisa and Mad Hatters.

For twenty eight years he had stood just as he did now watching his little- or not so little anymore- girl. She sat next to her friend on a bench in the school's playground. Briefly, she whispered something to the other girl and then they both started giggling. He longed to go to her. He had spent countless hours dreaming about the moment when the curse would be broken, imagined finally going up to her and having her remember him. And now…now he was afraid. And ashamed.

He had struggled with the curse of two lives in his head. One fabricated by Regina in which he had abandoned his daughter to pursue his career. And the other life…the one where he had abandoned her because of his pride. No matter how many times he told himself that Regina had tricked him…it all came down to that one little fact…his pride had been hurt when he could not afford to buy his daughter a stupid stuffed animal at the market. He had felt unworthy of her love then, a feeling that the past twenty eight years of being under a curse had only cemented.

Part of him wanted to just walk away, like he had done for all those years. But the voice of the little boy, the mayor's son, telling him that not knowing was the worse made him stay. Made him leave the shadows and approach the bench. Made him find the courage to utter her name.

"Grace."

"Papa, you found me. I knew you would."

And suddenly she was in his arms. He was holding her, and he would never let go. Suddenly everything felt right again. Everything was going to be okay.

"Grace," a woman's voice interrupted them.

"Mom," Grace said and pulled away from Jefferson, though not entirely. She was still holding his hand.

"Mom," Grace said again, excitedly this time. She tugged him towards the woman. "This is my papa, he found me!"

The look the other woman gave him was far from friendly.

"Grace, honey, why don't you go wait in the car."

And as quickly as it had come on, the feeling that everything would turn out all right vanished.

* * *

The caddy stopped at the edge of town. Rumplestillskin sat behind the wheel. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He tried to block out the magic of Storybrook, the magic he had brought, and concentered instead on this world's natural magic. With time he could learn to access it and use it almost as well as his own, he knew he could…but the problem was he didn't have time. He had found his son, or more accurately narrowed down a general location, weeks ago. But he hadn't left to go find him. Because the moment the curse had broken he had been plagued by visions, violent images of danger and death. Sometimes it was his son, sometimes his beloved. Once it had been him. The visions were never clear, but the urgency was real. Something was going to happen once he left Storybrook. Something that would endanger the lives of those he loved. And he needed a way to combat it. The memory of the seer who had given him his gift floated in his mind. Her last words about finding his son…and his undoing. And all the while his curse raged at him. To not leave. To abandon his quest. To let go of his son as he once did. If nothing else, the demon was very good at self- preservation.

"No," he said. He had always been a coward. He thought the curse had changed that, made him stronger and unafraid. But in the end, he had been afraid to lose that power and the fear had cost him his son. The dark magic had become his crutch, one he could not walk without.

"Not anymore," he whispered and got out of the car. If he couldn't walk to Bae, he would crawl to him. On hands and knees and beg his forgiveness. And if the price of their union was death, he would pay it. He would die if it meant he could look upon his boy's face and say he was sorry. Gritting his teeth, he steeled himself and stepped over the town line.

The pain hit him instantly. As instantly as the demon's voice was silenced. Rumple ignored the pain and tried to focus on the energy around him from the forest, the trees, the storm clouds gathering overhead, and tried to draw on it. Slowly, he took a step and then another. One foot…then the other. Beads of sweat started to form on his brow but he kept going, kept walking using the small bit of magic that he could to hold him. One more step…

"Ugh," he groaned as the pain became unbearable. He felt his ankle give way and he collapsed on to the road. He lay there on the cold ground, exhausted. If he could hear the demon now, he knew it would be laughing at his failure. How could he protect those he loved without the darkness? He could barely take two steps without falling. The thunder rumbled and the rain began to fall, soaking him where he lay. Of course, rain on a man when he was down, how appropriate. He started to laugh but the sound came out as something between a scoff and a sob. He closed his eyes and felt the visions assault his mind. Bae or Belle, they seem to taunt. One or the other, but not both.

"I'm sorry," he choked out.

Whether the apology was for Bae, Belle or the crippled spinner he had thought no longer existed, he could not say.

* * *

Tamara stood in Neal's apartment looking at his work. A cork board with sketches pinned to it on a wall and two tables, covered with a myriad of art supplies and unfinished pieces, served as his workspace. The drawings that he had were mainly panel scenes from a comic, some sort of super hero thing, nothing that she would be familiar with. Seeing it made her smile though, as it brought back memories of the boy she had met as a teenager, who was always drawing or doodling. He was a talented artist and she thought he could do much better than working on comics. She had said as much to him after she had seen a painting that he'd done, of a beautiful blonde woman, with swan's wings.

Neal however was not thrilled that she had found the painting. She had teased him about it, calling it his Mona Lisa and asked if his mystery lady was an old girlfriend. That had scared him out of the apartment faster than anything. He had cited some excuse about getting to the dry cleaners before it closed and rushed off so quickly he left his keys behind.

A knock at the door interrupted her perusing.

"I was wondering how long it would take you at the cleaners," she said as she opened the door.

Her smile faded when she realized it wasn't Neal.

"You! What are you doing here?"

"Really, Tamara, is that anyway to greet your old friend? Besides I could ask you the same thing. Does the old man know you're here?"

"What I'm doing here August, is none of your business. And if you even think of breathing a word…"

"Relax. I'm not here for you. Neal's an old friend of mine. I'm just in the neighborhood and thought I'd say 'hello'."

"Well he's out."

"Fine. Tell him I stopped by. Maybe the three of us can get together, swap stories about old times."

* * *

Belle walked briskly away from Archie's office. Their sessions were going well, and she liked the gentle, warm hearted therapist but today did not feel like a day for talking. She was restless and upset and just felt like she needed to keep moving. She had had a fight with Rumple…or more like a snapping match. In her time with him in the Dark castle, she was used to his volatile moods and his sharp comments whenever he was upset about something. She knew that anger pretty much was what he used to hide his vulnerability. Keeping people at a distance, making them fear or hate him, so that they would never get close to him was his survival mechanism. But she thought that, had hoped that they were past that now.

But Rumple had been pushing her away since their last conversation when she had agreed to start going to therapy. At first she thought he was still mad at her. Then she had figured that he was just busy and stressed over trying to find his son. But then he had found his location and hadn't told her until she asked. She had volunteered to go with him, to help him and he had seemed less than thrilled. He had said it was something he had needed to do on his own, and she had respected that even though she had the feeling that was only half the truth. She hadn't pushed him until he had suggested that when he left for New York, she should not leave the house.

"What about therapy? Which was your idea, by the way."

"I can arrange for Dr. Hopper to come here."

"Rumple, what's going on?"

"Nothing, I just need you to be safe."

"No…you can't do that. You can't make me agree to this with that half- baked answer."

"Belle, please…"

"Tell me."

"I…I had a vision. You were hurt…you died."

"Rumple, that's not going to happen. You told me that the future was not fixed. That visions were not always what they seemed. Maybe that's the case here. Besides, I can take care of myself."

She had meant the words to be comforting. But they had the opposite effect.

"Really? Because the last time you left my home you were kidnapped and locked up for twenty eight years!"

It was her turn to be mad.

"If I remember correctly, you were the one who told me to go!"

It had just escalated after that. She had walked out and felt the need to just keep moving, even though she had no idea where she was heading. She walked until the rain came down. Having no umbrella, she dashed into the nearest building to take shelter.

"Are you here for the class?" a voice that sounded familiar asked.

"Sorry? Class?" Belle asked, looking up.

"Belle!" the woman smiled in recognition.

"Mulan," Belle replied, "it's so good to see you. What are you doing here?"

"Well, this is my dojo. And I teach a women's self-defense class that starts in the next twenty minutes. You're welcome to join…it gets the blood flowing and the cold off. You look like you can use that."

"You know what, I think I would love to join."

* * *

Jefferson sat drinking at the bar. The Rabbit Hole they called the place. Once, a life time ago, he had had his fill of rabbit holes. Now ironically he sought comfort in one. Of course this one was vastly different from the ones he had frequented in the past. Except maybe for the magic shrinking drinks. How much? He wondered. How much would he have to drink for his problems to get smaller and smaller, till they disappeared? Of course, that fix was only temporary.

He supposed he could just take Grace and run. Leave Storybrook, custody battle be damned. Except he had no idea where he would go and what he would do. This place wasn't exactly home, and his cursed memories didn't exactly equip him with anything practical to help him survive out there, much less raise a daughter. Maybe he could try to go back home. Except he couldn't get the hat to work right…he'd only managed short distances within the town itself. Plus he really wasn't sure what was left of his home after the curse hit.

"Mr. Jefferson?" a voice interrupted.

"Depends on who's asking," the Hatter replied.

"Someone who requires your service," the other said, taking a seat beside him.

Jefferson looked at the man, bald with piercing blue eyes, a monarch…King George if he remembered correctly. He scoffed. His days doing jobs for the likes of kings and queens were done.

"I really don't give a damn what you require. Now if you don't mind, I have some drinking to get back to."

"You have a daughter, Mr. Jefferson. Grace I believe. Custody battles can be nasty things, long and drawn out…"

"What do you know of it?" Jefferson asked angrily.

"I know that judges like children to be placed in a stable home, loving parents, preferentially sound of mind. Your reputation however…what is it you've been called? 'Mad' hatter, I believe."

"What's your point?"

"My point is Mr. Jefferson, your chances of winning this battle is not very good. Not unless you have the favor of a judge. And lucky for you, I just happen to be one such judge. You help me, Mr. Jefferson, and I can make all your problems go away."

"I can't believe you're actually considering this," Emma said looking at David and Mary Margaret. "I think people may notice if a dragon starts flying around the town."

"If she's hurt, it may take her a while to fly," David replied. "So we've decided that it might be best not to get people panicked until we have a plan."

"We will tell them…just, now may not be the best time, especially with the election." Mary Margaret added.

Any counter argument Emma was going to give was stopped by her cell phone ringing.

"It's the station. Hello…wait, what? I'll be right there."

"What is it?" David and Mary Margaret both asked.

"Big problems. It's Regina, she's gone."

TBC.


End file.
